people won those. It wasn’t until a study had survived a hundred years of criticism that anyone would believe it had merit. “These videos are a waste of time. I need a full capacity mobile groundbase unit in order to study them. But we can’t start groundbase until I’ve completed my survey. Which presents me with a dilemma. Biotech had better pray that the things come out of the mud to move around occasionally.” She yawned, tired by hours spent chasing what appeared to be a figment of a vidcam’s imagination.
“If any of them do come out, I think I’ll view the beasts only in infrared. Those worms ought to be cold-blooded so they shouldn’t show up at all on the scanner. No slime to look at either.”
Camille’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you were a behaviorist. You can’t observe behavior adequately if you only see part of the action. Your most well -received paper was on the physiologic responses of prey while being chased and devoured by predators, and whether the adrenaline release improved the meat’s flavor. I should think that watching a few little pseudoworms being eaten would be tame compared to that. I am eagerly awaiting your next paper on whether or not cold-blooded pseudoworms become anxious or merely smile when eaten.”
Imelda grinned. Camille was young but had all the trappings of a truly able researcher. “An excellent idea. I’ll load up on tranquilizers and antiemetics like I did last time and order a bowl of popcorn.”
She paused, remembering. “Oh, that’s right, we don’t have any popcorn here. They won’t let me have any more tranquilizers, either. Oh well.”
Camille peered at her. “Did you really take tranquilizers?”
“Tons. I was on my way to becoming an official addict but decided I didn’t want a government subsidy. I figured I was ripping the government off enough with the research grants I kept getting.” Imelda was getting tired of the conversation. She knew that she had almost sounded friendly to Camille. That would never do. She needed stone walls in this room.
Camille, though, had her curiosity piqued. Hesitantly, she asked, “Was it your interest in carnivores that made you quit reproductive?”
Imelda made her voice gruff, irritated. “Oh god, no. I just got tired of the bad jokes. When a woman says she’s majoring in reproductive biology, not one man alive can keep his idiotic mouth shut. They equate it with a major in whoring.” She said the words with an air of finality, as though the subject was now closed.
Camille frowned. “That’s unfortunate. Your graduate thesis was first rate. I read it again when I heard you were coming here. Did you ever think about going back to reproductive?”
Camille waited for Imelda to answer.
Imelda, however, was apparently engrossed by the figures in front of her and remained silent, frowning. Camille’s expression remained uncertain and she seemed about to say something else. Finally she shrugged and turned back to her work.
Chapter Five
Performance evaluation
Jamison watched her curiously. Imelda swirled the wine around in her glass, admiring the sparkle, savoring the aroma. She hadn’t decided how friendly she would be with Jamison yet. Jamison was not quite the innocent social inept that Caldwell would have her believe.
Jamison had knocked on the back door connecting their apartments, introducing herself as Caldwell’s ‘friend.’ At first merely polite, their conversation had now taken on the tone of a grilling session. Jamison wanted to know everything about her, which meant that she actually knew very little. Like Camille, she was fascinated by the report that had made her ‘public’ reputation.
“Actually, I didn’t watch the live action, just a computer simulation of events. Little stick figures on the screen. I was protesting the practice of perpetuating hunting skills and carnivorous
“If any of them do come out, I think I’ll view the beasts only in infrared. Those worms ought to be cold-blooded so they shouldn’t show up at all on the scanner. No slime to look at either.”
Camille’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you were a behaviorist. You can’t observe behavior adequately if you only see part of the action. Your most well -received paper was on the physiologic responses of prey while being chased and devoured by predators, and whether the adrenaline release improved the meat’s flavor. I should think that watching a few little pseudoworms being eaten would be tame compared to that. I am eagerly awaiting your next paper on whether or not cold-blooded pseudoworms become anxious or merely smile when eaten.”
Imelda grinned. Camille was young but had all the trappings of a truly able researcher. “An excellent idea. I’ll load up on tranquilizers and antiemetics like I did last time and order a bowl of popcorn.”
She paused, remembering. “Oh, that’s right, we don’t have any popcorn here. They won’t let me have any more tranquilizers, either. Oh well.”
Camille peered at her. “Did you really take tranquilizers?”
“Tons. I was on my way to becoming an official addict but decided I didn’t want a government subsidy. I figured I was ripping the government off enough with the research grants I kept getting.” Imelda was getting tired of the conversation. She knew that she had almost sounded friendly to Camille. That would never do. She needed stone walls in this room.
Camille, though, had her curiosity piqued. Hesitantly, she asked, “Was it your interest in carnivores that made you quit reproductive?”
Imelda made her voice gruff, irritated. “Oh god, no. I just got tired of the bad jokes. When a woman says she’s majoring in reproductive biology, not one man alive can keep his idiotic mouth shut. They equate it with a major in whoring.” She said the words with an air of finality, as though the subject was now closed.
Camille frowned. “That’s unfortunate. Your graduate thesis was first rate. I read it again when I heard you were coming here. Did you ever think about going back to reproductive?”
Camille waited for Imelda to answer.
Imelda, however, was apparently engrossed by the figures in front of her and remained silent, frowning. Camille’s expression remained uncertain and she seemed about to say something else. Finally she shrugged and turned back to her work.
Chapter Five
Performance evaluation
Jamison watched her curiously. Imelda swirled the wine around in her glass, admiring the sparkle, savoring the aroma. She hadn’t decided how friendly she would be with Jamison yet. Jamison was not quite the innocent social inept that Caldwell would have her believe.
Jamison had knocked on the back door connecting their apartments, introducing herself as Caldwell’s ‘friend.’ At first merely polite, their conversation had now taken on the tone of a grilling session. Jamison wanted to know everything about her, which meant that she actually knew very little. Like Camille, she was fascinated by the report that had made her ‘public’ reputation.
“Actually, I didn’t watch the live action, just a computer simulation of events. Little stick figures on the screen. I was protesting the practice of perpetuating hunting skills and carnivorous
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